


The Pit's Song

by Bremmatron33



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst and Humor, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremmatron33/pseuds/Bremmatron33
Summary: As an ex-soldier Breakdown grew used to being the hero even though as it stood it was so much more fun being the heel. Some mechs though deserved to be saved.





	The Pit's Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DinobotGlitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinobotGlitch/gifts).



> Happy TF secret Santa Dinobotglitch. I hope you like it, if not feel free to ask me to write you something else.

As with most of his days, Breakdown started off the morning with the bitter reminder that his life and the lives of his loved ones did not matter. He’d been called down to the small makeshift morgue early that morning and despite knowing he was way better off than whoever he was being called for he was still bitter about it. It was his free day. No fights, not errands, no work to be done. He was free to pick at his scabby welds and watch others get the slag beat out of them. Now he had to go deal with another dead friend. Hopefully, they at least had some better friends that just him. He was running out of money he could throw around and even the cheap services Kaon offered were still more than he could afford this month.

His circuits went live with shivers as the pit doctors looked up from their dirty tables, their gaunt faces and sunken optics the worst sight in the world to be seeing right after onlining. He stood there nervous for a moment, voice stuck in his throat till one of them stood from a worn ugly desk and waved him back. The mech didn’t speak, he barely made a sound as he moved, just the sticky smack and ripping of a patched knee. Even the medics couldn’t care for themselves properly it seemed.

In the back room stacked on tables were dead fighters, mechs who fought one too many bouts or couldn’t even handle getting into the life. They were mostly new fodder, mechs the Pit had just bought and fixed up enough to have a chance, always a slim chance. Then there was Tact. They’d had the decency to take him off the pile and put him on his own table at least but they didn’t have the care to not strip him yet. His best pieces were already gone. Which meant he hadn’t been the first in to see him. Curious now Breakdown just managed to look the medic in the optic.

“Why am I here?” The medic shuffled around to another dingy desk and pulled out a small envelope.

“Before we lost him he informed us he wanted to transfer some of his programming to you. He was hopeful it would give you a better shot of staying with us for some time. It is very useful programming. Would you like me to install it for you now?”

“Uh-” Breakdown knew what they were talking about and considering how well he and Tact knew each other it was a really generous gift. Still….medics. “Might as well.”

“Smart choice. You are far too reckless.” Breakdown couldn’t help but rub the back of his head sheepishly. Usually, he would have punched a mech for a comment like that but the medics didn’t mean much by it. Just silent observers trying to keep slaggers like him off their tables.

“S...o~ Is he going to the smelting pools?” Breakdown knew the answer was yes, no gladiator ever got a proper funeral unless they were highly popular.

“Not him, no. In fact, none of them are. Conduit came by so today's lot are lucky. They will have a simple service and then their frames will be dealt with the proper way.” Conduit. The savior of the dead and damned. Dead End went to his sermons often, Motormaster too. Personally, the mech scared Breakdown but he did a lot for pit mechs so he wasn’t gonna be the one to bad mouth the mech even if he was dubious. Breakdown had to wonder where he got the money though.

“What place?”

“There will be an announcement after today's fights. In case any more of our fine champions fall.” Breakdown nodded as he took a seat where the medic instructed, pulling off his helm for the mech too. The less the medics touched him the happier Breakdown was.

With his errands said and done Breakdown wandered back to his room in the underground, the dark tunnels growing longer and longer with shadows as the ancient lamps flickered weakly. The chill had the mech puffing out small clouds with each quick ex-vent. Breakdown hated walking the halls alone. He’d earned enough of a name for himself in the solo fights and even a few fans thanks to his derby time. So he was wary of angry start-ups who wanted their shot.

It was still weird seeing his face on posters scattered around the halls and city, even on the holo-screens every now and again. If only he hadn’t had to stand next to Motormaster for their team shot. It made him look so small. It wasn’t fair.

Dead End was still in the room by the time he got back. It was always Dead End. He was the only one with any common sense to save most of his winnings but it made him boring as the Pit sometimes. Reading the same books again and again, only getting new things from the local second servo shops. Even his energon was second servo, but that was more of a weird religious thing. At least alone Breakdown could convince the mech to go to Tact’s funeral with him. None of the others knew Tact well but Dead End did love funerals.

As Breakdown slumped down on his cot with a sigh Dead End’s optics stopped their slow flashing and turned solid as he turned to his side to look his roommate over. “Your friend make it?”  
Breakdown shook his head. “You wanna talk about it?”

“We weren’t that close. He was in my company in the army. When we got axed we made the trip here together. Shared some energon, some laughs, fears. Usual stuff.”

“More than you have with us and you’re expected to act like we all came from the same spark clutch or something insane.” Breakdown scoffed out a laugh. It was true. Derby teams were the only time comradery was ever really appreciated and demanded in the pit. Breakdown didn’t really mind pretending and he had no problem being a team player but Motormaster made it hard sometimes. It was obvious he loved the Pit life more than most so he wanted nothing but victories. Being the newbie meant he got blamed for all their failures.

“You want to make some memories and go to the funeral with me? Conduit paid for a lot of losers so might as well pay your respects to someone.” Dead End nodded and fell back to his cot, his optics already starting their slow fade out as he re-opened up files.

“Sure. It’ll be nice to see where the collection plate goes for once before its going to you know...me.”

Yawning, Breakdown scratched at his flecking paint. He was still so tired, he’d only get half rations today though so he’d have to wait if he really wanted to go send Tact off. Not exactly worth complaining about, a nap would be just as nice. “I think we’ve got enough fans and you have enough money that you’ll get to go to a lot nicer place than wherever Conduit pays.

“Like hell if I wanna waste my savings on that. I’m hoping to have a cute widow to leave behind by the time I go. I gotta leave them something.”

Breakdown pretended to look aghast.“What about Dragstrip! Or me? What are the fans going to think if you get a side mech?” Dead End rolled his optics as he grumbled.

“Just because they have weird ideas doesn’t mean anything is ever gonna happen between us. Hopefully, you weren’t getting your hopes up, newbie.” Breakdown snorted.

“Don’t worry. I don’t recall ever asking you to swoop in and save my aft. Don’t recall Dragstrip asking either. So you can’t blame the fans for your heroics.”

“Maybe if you two idiots got better armor or at least paid a little more attention during bouts I wouldn’t have to swoop in.”

“Is that why you don’t pull that slag with Wildrider? Because we’re cute and feisty and he’s not?”

 “You know the crowd loves it when Wildrider takes a beating. Wildrider loves it when he takes a beating. I’m not about to step into that.”

“Fair point.” Their conversation lulled, Dead End getting further and further lost in his book and Breakdown slowly slipping into recharge. Breakdown didn’t bother fighting it and just let the distant drone of the underground machinery lull him to sleep.

It was the end of the cycle by the time Dead End was bothering him awake, Breakdown got him to take a quick detour to the dispensary before heading off to closing ceremonies for the announcement. He lazily chugged his energon as Gleam and Flare’s voices blared over the arena. Breakdown knew Flare pretty well and knowing most of his chipper haughtiness was nothing but an act made everything more bearable to listen to. He just imagined curses and slurred words spliced in every well-practiced phrase. When he was done addressing the crowd and most of the mechs were shuffling in their seats he brought up the funeral. Dead End was ready with a foil pad and stylus for him but Breakdown happened to know the place. Even lacking in faith back when he’d first arrived he hadn’t been so confident so he’d used his last army stipend to make sure he wasn’t going to end up in the smelters, his lost spark ever searching in agony.

The two waited for the new schedules then Breakdown was tugging his teammate off so they wouldn’t have to fight the crowd. With a few hours to still spare Breakdown sat patiently as Dead End put on a new coat of paint on the both of them and buffed him to a light shine. Breakdown hated how he caught the light, made himself an eyesore. but they were going to a funeral so he needed to look clean and this was Dead End’s base standard if he wanted to be seen with the other mech in public.

Breakdown bitched as the drove through dark narrow streets towards Kaon’s center. “I don’t get why only you get to be matte. Is the top coat just that expensive?”

“I already told you it’ll make you look hollow. It draws too much attention to the shadows on you. Why can’t you trust me?”

“Because you know I don’t like mecha looking at me I already deal with enough in the ring.”

“And you are such a trooper but if we get caught in a fight I need to know they’re not going to realize instantly how lightweight you are and knock you out cold in one shot leaving me with your leaking corpse alright?”

“Have a little faith in me! That’s not gonna happen you freak….stop scaring me.” Breakdown’s paranoia and anxiety certainly weren’t as bad as Dead End’s but that didn’t mean he didn’t drive just a bit closer to the other mech.

Luckily there really wasn’t anything to worry about, the massive service meant there were a lot of mechs traveling from the pit and while in the ring there were no real friends out in the real world if you belonged to the pit then the pit served you no matter what. It was an odd sight to see so many bulky worn mechs clogging the streets, the few aerials overhead droning as they flew slowly along, it really did feel….comforting if only for a moment.

 The place was as nice as Breakdown remembered it, which wasn’t a surprise since he had only been there a few years ago. It was already packed a bit tight but with Dead End clutching at his shoulder and shoving the two of them through it didn’t take long to find which room Tact was set up in. It was a simple affair. A nice high slab with a bit of plush cloth underneath, the small space around delicately decorated with offerings and flowers. Tact already had a few shanix shoved between his plates, a few message coins too. Some even scrawled out on his chest in cramped script, as neat as the mech could get it. Tact hadn’t been that good of a fighter but his skills and kindness had obviously earned him a few close acquaintances and Breakdown was glad for it. He reached for a blank message coin and the hot stylus as he looked his old friend over and over again. He looked nothing like he had in the pit. There he had been a mess but here….if it weren’t for all the runes and muted paint scheme he would have looked factory new. Just waiting for a spark to be planted. “Creepy.”

Dead End nodded. “They do a strangely good job here for being a place Conduit could afford. Maybe the owner’s part of the congregation...or maybe they’re also reclaimers.” Breakdown laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his helm, both were possibilities and that made him a little nervous. He didn’t fully trust anyone who practiced Conduit’s strange religion, he’d seen what some of them could do with their “faith” and it was not normal.

“Well hope they stay standing for me. This is the place I picked when I first got here.” Message finished Breakdown picked a spot and wedged his coin between one of Tact’s abdominal plates. Falling back he waited for Dead End to write his message.

“Nice choice. I expend some hope on that for you.” Breakdown rolled his optics at the mech's sarcastic tone.

Once the place was truly packed there were some words said over the speakers, Conduit himself was somewhere in the place giving a sermon so Breakdown let Dead End run off to find him and look over the other dead like the creep he was. Breakdown was thinking some morbid thoughts of his own though. Tact did look good and he was wondering if he could request the artist that did the work in case of his own demise. After bothering some pretty, exhausted-looking staff one of them finally managed to get the owner.

A gaunt but overall jovial looking mech, they were far too eager to touch and “comfort” him but Breakdown didn’t blame them despite slipping away as quickly as he could. “What is it that you need young one, I’m sorry I was so hard to find. Paperwork you see, it’s truly a death to the spark.”

“Not in my line of work haha!” Breakdown laughed nervously. Suddenly put off, he didn’t like the way the mechs digits looked, they were strange machinery, and had likely been used more than once. “I uhh...one of my friends died and they look great for getting sliced in half so I was uh...hoping to see the mech who did the job and thank them. W-Was it you? I-if so well... good job.”

The mech's smile never wavered but Breakdown could feel the owner’s field brighten just a bit with pride. “Who’s your friend?” Breakdown rattled off a number, the other mech nodded. “Ah, yes. Well...follow me a moment. I don’t do this often but….I can’t remember ever being asked so I don’t see why not. Being a gladiator you should have a strong enough spark.”

That was a bit worrying until Breakdown realized the owner was taking him to the back of the parlor, floors turning from soft quiet carpeting to slick metal. His guide still managed to make no noise as he walked which certainly wasn’t winning him any “I don’t do illegal or cult things in my spare time” points. He certainly didn’t win any as they turned down a long hallway and opened one of the doors with a number three over it.

Inside the room were eight tables each with a beautiful looking mech sitting primly on a stool behind them working on some poor dead slagger. That wasn’t such a surprise since the attendants working the floor were also disproportionately attractive for the job. What was an unnerving shock was despite the soft radio playing, the room was completely quiet. Not even a whispered chatter or even light singing. Each of them looked exhausted, frames shaking lightly, each with thick silver cables cascading from their necks, anchoring them to the walls of the room. And if that wasn't unsettling enough Breakdown was quite sure two of the workers were dead themselves. Heads slumped to their chests and frame stock still though none of the other workers paid them any attention. The owner caught him staring and placed a gentle servo on his shoulder. “Don’t you mind them. They’re on break.”

“Break?” That didn’t look like any break that was considered up to legal code and he worked in the pit! The owner just nodded and headed inside, breakdown cautiously trailed after him. The still conscious workers froze like street-bred turbofoxes about to be hit, their engines stalled and their plating clamped down tight as their boss passed them. Venting only when he and Breakdown passed their tables. Breakdown tried to calm his sloshing tanks but his anxiety was steadily rising. He could practically feel their discomfort and pain their fields were so wild with fear and exhaustion.

“These are my best if you give me a moment to be so proud. The one who worked on your friend is Faible.” Faible kept his optics glued to the body he was working on, looked like some chemical plant worker, frame pitted and mangled and glowing in the dim light.

The poor mech was visibly shaking as their boss placed one of his servos on the table and raised the other to lift up their chin. Breakdown had never seen a pair of such bright silver optics. They sparkled like they were made from jewels. He spoke so softly, so tight and practiced. “Have I done something wrong, York? Any…..complaints.” Breakdown felt the room shiver, so many fields all reaching out so loudly. Mingling together so desperately. It made Breakdown’s head swim. There was nothing but rage behind those pale, sweet, nervous faces, vicious rage.

York laughed seemingly oblivious. Almost caringly he cupped Faible’s face and rubbed at some light discoloration under his optic. “On the contrary young one, this mech wishes to praise you personally. A feat I rarely received for my own work. Quite an occasion. I’m very proud.” The creep factors were skyrocketing now! Breakdown tried not to pass out from stress as York turned back to him. “I’ll leave you two alone to chat if you like. Try not to take up too much of my workers time but I know all mechs have a slight curiosity considering our work.”

As soon as York left the blistering fire of hatred was gone from the room but it continued to stay eerily quiet. Breakdown looked the young mech over. Like the others, he was fresh and new, likely just off the line and well taken care of. Probably an expensive bot. Factory made with a well-born spark. Faible’s pale blue paint sparkled as he shifted uncomfortably so Breakdown shifted his gaze to the cart of strange fluids and paints. It really was hard not to stare though. Wide strong shoulders, slim black glass wrapped waist, wide hips. It certainly wasn’t a frame Breakdown expected to find at a funeral home. Even their face was just too cute. If this had been the pit Breakdown would be reaching out for those long white audials in hopes of getting the mech to swoon. “I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward spot. You really did a good job though. I-well...I’m a pit fighter with a contract here and I was just thinking I might be able to request your work. I’m starting to think that was pretty dumb.”

Faible shifted again and slowly went back to ripping out tubing from their corpse. “I’ll….make sure it’s added to your file. Thank you for your interest.”

“Yeah. I hope it helps...well I guess I hope it never has to happen but if it does at least I know my chits are going to someone who deserves them.” A whispering echo of a laugh filled the room and died in an instant. Faible winced, his denta biting at the inner mesh of his lip.

“You’re very kind. You should get back to your friend.” Breakdown nodded knowingly but instead of turning to leave he slowly inched closer, his servos reaching out he followed the long hanging cable that tethered Faible to just before it reached the plug that rested snugly in the back of the mech’s neck. The army didn’t raise no fool contrary to everyone’s belief that he was just a flashy pretty boy. This was shady.

“You know this might be too forward but how would you like to go back to the pit with me?” A rising wave of unease filled the room as Faible stuttered nervously.

“I- uh-hm-I’ll need to ask York.” That was quick. These poor mechs were quick.

“What for? I can wait till you get off. You can tell me no….but I don’t think you want to. Would you...like my frequency to think about it?” Breakdown could feel the poor bot’s panic rising. He was pushing things.

“I’m sorry I can’t do that. We don’t offer that service.”

“What service? Your time? Just tell me to go away if I’m bothering ya.” The poor mech was shaking violently now, claws digging into the table.

“We are available at all hours. Always the best service.” Breakdown couldn't help but grimace. His suspicions realized. 

“Is there any place else I can see you?” Suddenly something clicked in the other bot, their dour look turning to a smile, optics half-lidded. Even their metal had a brighter glow, tracks of biolights turning on and flooding up Faible’s frame.

“Sure you can sweetspark~ Our locals are at-at-at-at-” Breakdown watched the other mech tick painfully over and over till their optics just went dark and his frame sunk into the same position as the other offline bots. Breakdown let out a disgusted sigh as he turned from the table.

“Break time.” A ghostly murmured chorus returned him. 

“You guys sure got some tight leashes.” Slowly Breakdown rattled off his personal frequency. “If any of you...want….you can update me on my contract. Anytime. I’ll think of something to help ya’. And…,” Breakdown pointed back to Faible, “Tell them I’m sorry.” None of the other mechs seemed angry, slowly they just bowed their heads.

“Thank you for your patronage kind customer. We hope we helped to ease your spark.” The uniform chorus of their voices was scarier than any fight he’d been forced into. He left the place as quickly as he could.

Breakdown never got any calls but he wasn’t surprised. Mechs in those situations lived lives Breakdown could only dream up in his nightmares. Considering how tight the scripts they were stuck with were they likely got no time at all. There was always someone who had it worse so even if he was getting his head kicked in every week at least he wasn’t someone’s slave and that was why the system worked.

That wasn’t the last time he’d see Faible as it would turn out though.

It had been months after the funeral and Breakdown had all but forgotten about the incident. He couldn’t help mechs that didn’t want it after all even though he was sure if he told Conduit who he was giving money to he’d at least stop that. Then again maybe Conduit did know. Sometimes even the best people had to deal with slaggers to get something halfway decent. Breakdown just didn’t want to cause more trouble than he knew he was specifically making. He had no idea what would happen if he did do something stupid and heroic, it could turn out worse in the end and with his track record that was quite the possibility.

He and his team had been doing great in the derbies though, nothing but wins for ten bouts so with their bonuses Motormaster had forced them all together and taken them to Kaon center to celebrate. Naturally, Dragstrip and Motormaster went off on their own to the pleasure houses, Wildrider to the drug dens, leaving himself and Dead End…..to go off to the theater house. Dead End promised they’d go somewhere more in his lane after but Breakdown was doubting it. The only saving grace to the embarrassing ordeal was the pit’s starfighter was there. If something was cool enough for Megatron then Breakdown supposed it couldn’t be too bad.

He was wrong. It was very lame, and long, and dark, and noisy. This wasn’t a traditional performance it was one that got the audience very involved and Breakdown could only imagine it had been touring for a bit considering how excited everyone was to participate, Dead End included. Thankfully they did go somewhere fun afterward.

Breakdown would have never considered clubs his thing, he didn’t like crowds, didn’t like loud noises, and he didn’t like people staring at him. But the cinemas were packed, he wanted a strong drink, and as the other pretty face of his derby team, it was his job to rake in new mechs. The one they had chosen was a bit of a free for all. It had some gambling rooms, a few private lounges, but most of all pretty good music and strange new drinks. It had a futuristic vibe going on, every inch decked out in blinding saturated colors, flashing lights, and saucy decorations.  
  


If it hadn’t been recommended by a few of the other younger fighters as the hip and cool place to go in Kaon Breakdown would have turned tail and dragged Dead End off to a nice quiet dive bar. Something about the place just pulled the two in though, like a gaudy trainwreck.

They had been a few drinks in and Dead End had gone off to test his luck leaving Breakdown to mingle. Tipsy, the thought of putting attention on himself bothered him a little less but he hadn’t quite mustered up the confidence or the skill to spot lonely sparks looking for a little excitement like Dragstrip had. He’d managed to talk himself up to a few mechs but only because they'd stopped him. He’d even managed to dance a little which was fun.

Claustrophobia and his poor cooling systems getting the better of him, Breakdown had gotten a new drink to nurse and wandered over to the less cramped side of the bar. Tucked away there was a stage with a few mechs “performing” on it. They were all singing a very lewd song and doing a very raunchy act. Breakdown couldn’t help but notice the cables cascading down their backs and disappearing far off the stage. It made his circuitry crawl. Primus, he expected this sort of slag in the richer cities but here in Kaon!? If he had stayed a moment longer he might have noticed the workers brilliant jewel-like optics...or he might have purged his tanks. It was as he was stalking off in disgust that he noticed a long row of booths, curtains hiding away what was inside. Curious he wandered over. Pulling back the curtain there was a comfortable looking seat, a small bit of desk, and a large window that was shielded at the moment. In the corner on the glass were a few small signs. “Talk to me anytime I’m always here to listen. Five chits for the hour” and “Want to take me home? Need a nice date? Press the green button for a day you’ll always remember.” Breakdown knew what he was getting into but drunk and curious he couldn’t help but pop in five chits to the coin slot.

As soon as the money registered the screens pulled back revealing a small room. A pale fuchsia it was furnished with white plush furniture and a lot of glowing lights. All of it shone off of the worker's frame...and a familiar face. Gone was the pious pale blue and guarded waist Faible had been stripped of most of his old armor for a much more….”appealing” frame. Plenty of raw machinery to be seen and what little plating he had left was done up in a bright cyan and coral. Breakdown swore he could even see gears turning. He may have had a cheeky show of his outer engine casing himself but this was next level!. There was also that telltale cable grounding him to the wall, which certainly put a damper on things. 

Breakdown slowly took a seat as the other mech sauntered over. “Hiya stranger. You can call me Knock Out. You’re looking glum, anything you need to talk about?”

Breakdown shivered under the weight of the poor mech’s empty stare. “D-do you remember me? From the funeral.” There was a flash in Knock Out’s optics. Breakdown could only hope it wasn’t rage.

“That I do. You don’t happen to be a regular do you, stranger?” The tone was meant to be cheeky and teasing but just like at the funeral home Knock Out had learned to use his scripts to his favor.

“I’m sorry for that. I wanted to help you. I didn’t realize how bad you had it.”

“Aw, this isn't about me. Tell me what’s on your mind?” The way Knock Out moved, the way his tone dipped and changed it really made him seem like he cared. Breakdown could only think about what was under that mask, the feelings buried under strict programming.

Breakdown brought his voice down to an even softer whisper as he leaned in closer to the glass.“Is there any way I can help you?”

“Hmm, that’s a tough one.” For a moment Breakdown swore the bot was being snarky with him then he realized he was. Cautiously for no real reason except for the almost feral look that was tingeing Knock Out’s optics Breakdown pressed the green button and a distant bell sounded, a bright green light went off somewhere in the back of Knock Out’s room.

It took some time, but there was a knock outside Breakdown’s booth. Another mech pulled back the privacy curtain and looked through the glass to check for the green light. They looked down at Breakdown, “You hit that on purpose?”

Breakdown rubbed at his arm sheepishly, suddenly unsure of what he was doing. He barely knew this mech and here he was risking his own life for them? What sort of delusional hero was he?! “Uh...yeah.” The employee motioned for him to follow as he turned and left. Breakdown stood and followed, sparing a final glance at Knock Out who was just waving cryptically at him.

He was brought to a counter where another employee started spouting off information. Breakdown sort of dazed out through most of it which was fine because most of it was just praising him for his choice and Knock Out's many "qualifications". It wasn’t till he was finally being prompted that Breakdown actually started reading the form that had been slipped in front of him.

“What is all of this for?” The employee stalled in their script, their stalling minimal.

“Most of it’s all just insurance. Knock Out’s never been taken out and he’s…..feisty. This will protect you from paying thousands of chits should something happen to them. It also protects us should something happen to you.” 

"Like what?" Knowing exactly what could go wrong with a mech like Knock Out especially if his programming scripts suddenly switched Breakdown was just being an aft really. 

The employee just laughed, “Well let’s just say its for if you want to get rough and they don’t like that. It’s not our fault. They’re escorts only but how you use your money and time and what they agree to is their business.”

“Got ya.” Breakdown tried not to sound as disgusted and salty as he was feeling.

“Alright pick the amount of time you want, finish up that form, and I’ll have Knock Out waiting for you.” As Breakdown went back to reading the form the employee continued. “Just in case you miss it in there, there are some rules and information you should know. You’re not allowed to give anything to escort, not even drinks. They’re there for you not you for them and we keep them on a strict schedule for the best maintenance. You can’t take them out of the city obviously, we prefer you don’t take them on the major highways since transforming eats up their battery life as well as long drives. Speaking of the battery packs, depending on the time you chose they’ll be charged for at maximum ten hours if you wish to keep them out longer you’ll have to charge them yourself. We’ll give you a specific charger if necessary. Otherwise do not touch the battery packs, understand?” Breakdown continued to nod along. “Good. Should something delay you and your escort goes dark don’t worry. Just carry them back, they’ll be fine for up to an extra hour or two.”

“Wait, what? What happens after that?!” The employee laughed grimly.

“It’s a measure the boss employs to keep them from running away...so I’m sure you can imagine. Signature?” Finishing everything off the worker took his form. “It’ll take a few moments to get Knock Out shined up for you. You can meet him at the door.”

With his next three hours sealed, Breakdown went off to find Dead End and warn him. The other racer was not pleased by the news. Breakdown knew Dead End was a bit more of a prude but he honestly didn’t have any ill intentions. These bots lived hellish lives of monotony and objectification the least he could do was spend a little money to give them some free time. “I just can’t believe you wasted your money on a freaking mannequin!”

“A what?”

“A mannequin Breakdown! They’re not real mechs they’re just fancy toys for the rich! Shit they created to just sit and be pretty and do menial tasks because they couldn’t handle the turnaround of runaway servants. They’re just simple A.I. and programming. No processors, no sparks, they don’t even run on energon! That thing is probably going to just charge you up and rob you blind.”

“I-” What Dead End was saying made sense...at least Breakdown wanted it to make sense. Just because it was easier to swallow the idea of just some pretty high tech doll forced to work and perform all day and night instead of an actual mech but….he had his doubts. If they were made to be just dolls, pretty slaves for some disgusting high caste slagger, then they had sure evolved past their programming quickly. Breakdown remembered being in that closed off room in the funeral parlor, he saw the frantic look on Knock Out’s face as he tried to fight. “I don’t think that’s what they are at all Dead End. I think that’s just what they want mechs to think. Like I don’t put that shit past them, wanting to replace us but….I think they slagged up somehow if that’s what they wanted.”

Dead End’s frown didn’t budge but his field softened. “I wouldn’t put it past the upper-crust to create a new caste of pretty faces then exploit the slag out of them right under the government's nose. Not like they’d even need to be there considering. Just...Breakdown….they don’t move right, they look fake...like they’re gonna fragging tear off my faceplate and rip out my organs any second kind of fake...just laughing...being cutsie...with those dead optics...all day….what got into your head?”

“I….if this goes over well I’ll tell you later.” Breakdown was giving him that pleading look now so Dead End caved.

“Fine. I’ll follow you around to make sure you don’t lose your vital organs to that monstrosity.”

With Dead End’s help secured, Breakdown waited by the door of the club till another employee headed over with Knock Out, unceremoniously handed him a lead, and waved him goodbye. Breakdown left as quickly as Knock Out could manage in his horrible looking sabatons. They didn’t walk far, Breakdown leading the mech off of the main roads to a small but fairly visited park. He didn’t want Knock Out to worry about being stared at or worry he wasn’t as kind as he was acting. Settled Breakdown left his “date” to immediately break the rules.  He sat back down on the bench they’d found a few moments later and carefully handed Knock Out a small cube of warm flavored energon. Knock Out took it but only stared, using it mostly as a servo warmer than anything else.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. They don’t monitor you or anything right? If you’re really gonna get in trouble you don’t have to drink it.”

“I thought you said you were going to help me.” Breakdown’s spark dimmed mostly because of his nerves but also because of Knock Out’s response. It didn’t seem scripted and it was so full of disappointment.

“It might take me a bit to get a plan together. I might have to take you back. I….are you really just…..like a tool? A fancy looking appliance. It doesn't matter to me I'll do whatever I can either way but...” Knock Out shivered obviously discomforted by the question. He dared a sip at the energon.

“I don’t know what I am. I just know I hate it. Why are you bothering at all? I’m not going to offer you anything. I don’t have anything.” Breakdown couldn’t look away from Knock Out’s bright silver optics, so empty, the perfect lie.

“I’m kind of an idiot. You're pretty and I felt bad for causing you trouble. I wanted you to know I meant it. I’m too stupid to think things through.”  
  


“That’s reassuring.” Again with the sarcasm. Breakdown couldn’t help but huff a laugh. If Knock Out was what Dead End said he was it really didn’t seem to matter all that much.

“Hey, I know enough. What... sort of script do they give you for situations like this? What should I even call you? Do you even…” Breakdown didn’t know how to finish that thought, too complicated an idea even for him which wasn’t saying much.

“I….don’t really know what you’re talking about. I….I’ve never been outside like this before. Just York’s...or Track’s club. They only change us over while we’re...on break.” Knock Out drained his small cube, hoping it would do anything for him but he still felt as cold as always. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to do or not do but….for the first time in my life nothing is happening...and I’m awake...and…” Knock sighed heavily. “How much did you end up having to pay to help me?”

Knock Out was shaking again, Breakdown inched a little closer, offering his frame, Knock Out fell lightly against him. “T-that doesn’t matter. I work for the pit I’ll earn it back. The house takes most of everything but if they like you they give you enough and I put on a pretty good show." This seemed to ease Knock Out's taut field slightly

“Thank you for getting me out of there...if only for a short time.”

Breakdown dared slightly as he rested his servo on Knock Out’s hip. “We got three hours, I can take you to a few places and as long as I keep winning I can keep coming back till I’ve got a solid plan for you. Primus, I know that sounds dumb...I don’t even know you but….it’s wrong what they’re doing to you. So if you want my help you’ve got it.” Suddenly Knock Out turned to face him, his long smooth fingers suddenly cupping Breakdown’s face.

“We should have fun. That is what foolishness is for, isn’t it? Why stop it here? Show me what I’ve been missing Breakdown.” Breakdown grabbed at Knock Out’s servo, he swore he could hear the mech’s spark pounding against his chest, pounding in time with his own. Dead End had to be wrong. He just had to be.

“What about your battery? I don’t want to hurt you?”

“You can’t hurt me. Let’s go.”

Breakdown honestly had no plan but nevertheless, they found something to do anyway. Knock Out was a beautiful mech with no reservations, he sped along highways daring Breakdown to chase him, ran through crowds like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, never satisfied to stay in one place for long but never bored for a second. Happiness looked so good on the bot, joy, and wonder too. The fear that it was all just another well-crafted program never left the back of Breakdown’s mind but….he just kept telling himself it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t for that stupid battery on his back Knock Out wouldn’t need him at all. He was lucky enough to just enjoy any time with the mech at all.

They were getting close to their time and Breakdown had dragged them back to the small park that was about ten minutes from the club. He felt terrible for it but Knock Out was still smiling, still silly from the energex and the excitement. They were definitely going to know that he broke the rules but as long as he acted equally as drunk Breakdown had a feeling that his money would speak louder than any "special maintenance". Still, he was trying to calm Knock Out down a tad. “Shh… common. This is a public park.” Breakdown had been nervous about snagging the lead around Knock Out’s neck all night but with the bot still teasing he gave it a light tug to pull him close. “I promise this won’t be the end. I’ll pay them whatever they want to keep seeing you, I promise...but I’ve got to take you back. The last thing I need is for them to call the cops on me for stealing you. I can’t help you if I’m dead.”

Knock Out suddenly stalled, his smile falling for only a second before returning to his lips. “Right….of course.” He moved closer, and closer, till he had his servo lightly on Breakdown’s hip. Breakdown mimicked the gesture till they were in a loose embrace. “Breakdown….I’ve thought about you since the day you came to bother me. You made my life a nightmare. York was so angry afterward….but none of that mattered because I learned that there were good mechs out there, good mechs who lived and died….who deserved my work no matter how I gave it…..and that helped….it really did. Foolish or not I just continued on. York always told us, when another worker tried to run away, when another killed themself, then another, and another just disappeared... that we were so lucky… that we had everything taken care of for us. Bots would always want us around one way or another. We didn’t have to worry about fuel, or a place to live, or company to keep us sane. We had him and we had our customers. I felt so selfish for being unsatisfied, for wanting more, for expecting more even though everyone continued to tell me how hellish it was out there...how so many suffered...how poorly they would view me. I still feel selfish….but I also feel satisfied... almost.” Knock Out’s voice had dropped to a whisper, helm butting gently against Breakdown as he grabbed for the servo still clutched loosely around the lead. Slowly he moved it upward and placed it at the base of his neck. “Help me one last time tonight Breakdown. Help me….be free for just a moment.”

Breakdown wrapped his digits around the chunky plug as he nuzzled Knock Out’s helm gently in return. “It might hurt.”

“What else is new?” Breakdown gave the cord a rough tug and as it popped free he was enveloped in a cloud of electricity. It stung and burned up his circuits till black spots filled his vision and sent him writhing to the floor. Blind, deaf, and stupid for who knew how long Dead End filled his vision when he finally rebooted.

“K-d-heuggh, I’m alive?”

“Your pretty boy tried to kill you then ran for it! I told you they’re nothing but lying whores.” Breakdown frantically shook his head as he tried to get to his peds.

“No! We’ve gotta find him. Where’d he go?” Shaking his head Dead End Grabbed Breakdown by his shoulder and tugged him along at a janky run till the other mech could transform. They were an hour outside the city proper when they found Knock Out in a rain ditch, A turbofox and nest of smoke thieves were nestled around him, leeching whatever warmth or charge he had left. Jumping down the steep drop off Dead End waved them away as he looked the mech over.  
  


Breakdown felt his spark start to flux wildly in panic as Dead End started swearing. “Dead End? What’s wrong?”

“Those fragging creeps! Those rich stupid evil slaggers! They don’t even have a shred of decency anymore do they?” Stumbling down the rest of the incline Breakdown caught Dead End's shoulder just in time.

“What are you going on about.”

“His spark's going nuts! They weren’t supposed to have sparks! They weren’t supposed to have anything! Just fancy decorations to fill mansions with! Why am I even surprised that you were right!’

“What does that mean?!” Terrified now Breakdown couldn’t suppress the shriek in his voice. Dead End just turned to glare at him. Breakdown knew what that meant.

“He knew what he was doing Breakdown. You were just the kind sap he needed. You were his out.

“N-no. I-” Breakdown didn’t know why he was getting so upset over a stranger. He didn’t want to believe it was just his poorly hidden hero complex and Knock Out’s pretty face because...it felt like more to Breakdown. Brief or not he’d really enjoyed his time with the escort and free from his scripts and ever pleasing programming he seemed like….Breakdown didn’t know. He wanted to say a friend but he wasn’t that delusional. So maybe it really was that he just wanted to save him. Now Knock Out was dying. “W-what are we going to do?”

Dead End looked dumbfounded. “What are we going to do? Breakdown he’s just some cheap escort who ran away from his master! What do you want me to do?!”

Breakdown certainly had an idea. “Y-you could call someone.” Dead End looked away back to the Knock Out, he could do that.

“I don’t know if he’d get here in time, I don’t know if that’s what this poor slagger wanted! He’s been a glorified doll his whole existence Breakdown! I know in your soft stupid spark you think you’re helping-”

“He wanted to be free! This was his only idea of that! It’s not!” Breakdown was puffed up with rage and determination. Dead End hated when the young mech got like this.

He scoffed bitterly. “You sure about that?” Dead End couldn’t look at Breakdown’s pitifully disappointed optics and stay strong forever. “Fine, but don’t get mad if Conduit takes a liking to him. You know how he is when mechs have nice servos.” Breakdown grabbed Dead End around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Dead End slapped him off, his communicator already dialing. “You need to go back to the bar and make up some slag. Rough yourself up more. I’ll meet you back at the pit and give you the outcome.”


End file.
